


Growing in Grace

by aquaeryn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Destiel is the One True Ship, M/M, My First Fanfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-08 10:26:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4301187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquaeryn/pseuds/aquaeryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one really knows everything about an angel's Grace, not even the angels themselves. When the boys and their angel learn that there's more to the Heavens than they previously thought, Dean is duly confused, Sam is awed and Cas is (eventually) going to get lucky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> yep, this is my first attempt at any kind of a fic so let's see where it goes! this is unbeta'd (but proof-read by moi) and definitely au. sorry if my writing seems a little stiff, i'm still trying to find my voice and flow. feedback is one hundred percent wanted!! how else am i supposed to correct my mistakes? don't know the length or where specifically this story is going but I'm just gonna roll with it.
> 
> heres a glossary of angels for the fic. not all of them may be mentioned by name but they're all boppin around in heaven
> 
> 1.) Archangels: true form incomprehensible to humankind; most powerful and closest to God  
> Michael Lucifer (fallen)  
> Raphael Gabriel
> 
> 2.) Seraphim: have six wings and four faces; much stronger than the malakhim but no match for the archangels  
> Zachariah, Castiel*, Naomi
> 
> “the blessed” also known as the uncorrupted or incorruptible, garrison of seraphs with unique roles; divided into five separate but interdependent trinities
> 
> the command: leader of the garrison  
> Ariael “the lion of God”
> 
> the justices: proclaim God’s justice  
> Ansiel “the constrainer”  
> Remiel “the mercy of God”  
> Shoftiel “the judge of God”
> 
> the swords: carry out God’s justice  
> Rogziel “the wrath of God”  
> Puriel “the fire of God”  
> Hofniel “the fighter of God”
> 
> the senses: relay God’s commands and see His work done  
> Zophiel “the eye of God”  
> Joshua “the ear of God”  
> Metatron “the mouth of God” (not a dick in this story)
> 
> the sages: interpret God’s wisdom  
> Uzziel “the strength of God”  
> Zaphkiel “the knowledge of God”  
> Hadraniel “the majesty of God”
> 
> the guardians: protect God’s gift to the angels i.e their Grace  
> Sarakiel “the minister of God”  
> Radueriel “the grace of God”  
> Reguel “the friend of God”
> 
> 3.) Malakhim: have only two wings and one face; the weakest of the angels and too numerous to name; divided into three garrisons. *Cas used to be one of the malakhim, but became a seraph when God resurrected him

Prologue

The only sound in the Garden is the rustle of leaves and the occasional birdcall, but Joshua cocks his head like he’s hearing something else. “Okay, Father,” he says. “Ain’t that going to twist their tails right up. I’ll pass the message along to my sisters. Disappearing from the midst of the foliage, Joshua flew to meet his sisters Sarakiel, Radueriel and Reguel. They are the Guardians, one of the five trinities of seraphim, charged with protecting that which is most precious to the Host. Over an eternity, the three sisters and their fellow triads worked dutifully and serenely under the righteous command of Ariael, the Lion of God. Ariael’s garrison was known as the incorruptible for they were examples of the pure faith that ran through an angel’s being surely as their Grace. Three hundred years ago, that all changed. 

***

It was England, the early 1700’s, and a powerful demon was hatching a plot in the English countryside. Bernael was very smart and uncommonly paranoid, even for a demon. He worked alone; confiding in no one, avoiding undue attention, going deep underground. But despite his precautions, he couldn't completely hide the demonic omens that manifested in England and eventually his activities drew the attention of the Heavenly Host. The angels decided that direct intervention was needed to handle this situation, since Bernael was firmly entrenched within the human world and they had no idea why he was there or what he was doing. Ariael was chosen for the task, no other angel was even considered. Who else would be sent besides their best and most devoted? Ariael took his orders and he took his vessel, a divine sense of conviction burning through his Grace. But, in order to keep Bernael from discovering the operation that would be carried out beneath his shadow, Ariael would have to dampen his Grace and allow his vessel’s soul near total control of their actions. Sir Emmett Winchestre had always been a faithful member of the flock so when approached by an angel of the Lord, Sir Emmett Winchestre knelt in obedience and gave his consent.

It took nearly fifteen months for Ariael to even find a workable lead and when he did, no one was prepared for what would happen. As it happened, Bernael was taking a special interest in the infants born that year. Unluckily for Ariael, the demon preyed upon such a wide range of families that anticipating his next move was nearly impossible. Combined with Bernael’s natural paranoia, and the subsequent lack of underlings to interrogate, Ariael’s stay on Earth was dragged out months on end. Time passed as he grew used to Emmett’s body and his feelings. Emmett was no longer a mere vessel. He had become a friend and a link to many emotions that Ariael had never felt before; love, joy, sadness, hunger, lust - Ariael experienced them all firsthand. Slowly, drip by drop the angel lost his Grace. So gradually that it was unnoticeable, Ariael was unaware until the last crucial moment - the night he managed to capture Bernael. The demon stood grinning jauntily, despite being hemmed in by the devil’s trap etched in a threading of Grace-light on the ground. Ariael gestured smoothly with a neutral look on his face, slamming the Demon to the ground and pinning him there. As Bernael cackled, another sound caught Ariael’s ear - a small, muffled whimper in a voice that sounded too familiar. His calm expression fractured as Emmett broke through. “Cara!” Emmett gasped. He took a disjointed half step towards her before stopping. The demon’s nasty smile got even wider as he said smugly, “Pardon me, where are my manners. I forgot to mention that I managed to secure your lovely wife’s attendance tonight. I said ‘Cara, I simply must insist on your presence tonight’ and she was very…vocal in her agreement. The two of us are the dearest of friends now, we’ve shared so much.” Emmett’s face twisted in a pained expression before it went blank as he closed his eyes. When he opened them, they glowed white-hot with Ariael’s Grace. Speaking in his own true voice over the vessels’, command layered through the words spoken as he bade the demon to speak the truth and tell him why he was taking children. Bernael merely winced as a trickle of blood made its way from his ear. “It’s going to take more than that to make me spill my guts, angel.” he sneered. Ariael didn't reply, choosing to crouch by Bernael’s side and press two fingers to his forehead. A slight furrow in his brow was the only evidence he had done anything; then, the smell of burning flesh as glowing sigils of obedience, honesty and binding etched themselves into the skin of Bernael’s chest, so hot that they scorched through his clothes. The angel was expecting Bernael’s muted grunt, and ignored it but Cara’s strangled scream took him by surprise. Glancing over, he saw matching char marks across her blouse and when she opened her mouth to pant for breath, her teeth were etched in red. Ariael’s face didn't so much as twitch, but inside, Emmett was screaming. The demon laughed. “This is one of my favorite spells. Whatever you do to me, you do to her and if you try to heal her, well, she won’t be the only one feeling better.” The vessel’s face was blank, showing no sign of the struggle inside between Ariael and Emmett as they argued over Cara’s life or God’s mission. Ariael knew there was no way to break the spell without Bernael’s cooperation and he knew he would never get that. He also knew that he would have to choose between Cara and his commands to discover the demon’s plans. Bernael watched Ariael carefully from his prone position on the floor - if he had played his cards right, (and he believed he had) he would get away with his life and his plans still intact. Unfortunately for him, he made a mistake - in his arrogance, he had underestimated the strength of the angel within the vessel. He believed Ariael to be all but gone, a tiny ember of Grace clinging desperately, leaving Emmett almost alone in his body. And while he wasn’t exactly wrong, that ember of Grace remaining within Emmett’s body was enough for Ariael to wrest control from Emmett and smite Bernael for good. When he removed his hand from the body, Cara’s head thumped to the ground in a gruesome echo of the demons’ and the last vestiges of Ariael’s Grace left him, all too human in his despair. He hadn’t just failed his Father – he had failed Emmett as well.

***

Now, one of God’s greatest mysteries is what happens to the Grace of a fallen angel after they fall. Most believe it burns up like gas, dissipating into the world and causing miracles on Earth, and they’re partially correct. What they don’t know is what happens behind the upstairs curtain. While most of the Grace is absorbed by the universe, tiny traces remain behind. Even the feeble flickers of a fallen angel’s Grace are too powerful to be left unmonitored so they are carefully collected, stored and defended by the Guardians. Reguel, Sarakiel and Radueriel know that demons and other monsters would leap at the chance to get their claws on an angel’s Grace and so they created the Repository, a place where Grace would be safe. Not only do they replenish the Grace of the Fallen, but they also preserve sparks of every angel as a safeguard against absolute death. If an angel is killed, the Guardians plant the Grace in the Garden and encourage it to sprout. The process is naturally slow, and would take several centuries on its own without the trio’s nurturing attention but Sarakiel, Radueriel and Reguel accelerate the process by bathing the seedlings in the aura of their combined Grace. As a result, the Grace rejuvenates in less than half the time and an angel can be restored that much sooner. 

When Ariael fell, the guttering remnants of his Grace were returned to Heaven, and placed under to his sisters’ watchful care. They tenderly cared for the tarnished Grace of their commander and wasted no time sowing the seed of his redemption. Once a decade, they visited the fragile seedling and saturated it with all the love, hope and loyalty they could muster. In just under a century and a half, the seedling had transformed from a nondescript green sprout into a large, opalescent bud that grew closer to bursting with every decade that passed. Around the two-century mark, the bud began to open and slowly bloomed over the next seventy years into a beautiful lily shaped flower. Six opalescent, gently glowing petals surrounded delicate filaments, which cradled the newly rejuvenated Grace and bright speckles of shimmering blue dotted the midline of each petal, offset by the light bluish white color of the flower. Finally, when the bloom was completely mature, Radueriel channeled the Grace into a special crystal that would allow it to be protected and contained until Sarakiel knew where it was needed and that is where our story begins.


	2. Easy Way Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean learn all about their role in the Apocalypse, and receive a convenient offer of help while Cas is up to his usual tricks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ideas have been bubbling in my head all day and I'm pretty satisfied with how they came out in chapter 1... let me know what you think!

Chapter 1

Ever since Castiel, angel of the freakin’ Lord dragged him from Hell, Dean felt out of place, like he was never where he was supposed to be. His skin seemed too small or too big, and maybe waking up inside his own grave had something to do with that, but whatever the cause, this restless, itchy feeling was going to drive him nuttier than Martin in the mental hospital. Combined with the guilt of breaking the first seal, Dean was at his wits end. He couldn’t rely on Sammy – the kid already worried too much as it is and Cas was busy trying to defend the remaining seals against demons in an attempt to postpone the Apocalypse.

At the moment, Dean is hiding out in the Impala, listening to some Zep. He doesn’t want to look at Sam right now and the motel room is stifling, so here he is. He’s just getting into the groove of the music, head tilted back against the seat, eyes closed and shoulders finally relaxing when the air changes. A metallic scent reaches his nose and when he opens his eyes, a slim, solemn faced woman in a well tailored pantsuit is standing outside the car. “Fuck.” He can tell she’s an angel from the way she’s standing – like she’s got a massive stick up her ass. 

Dean leans forward to roll down the window and then returns to his previous position of nonchalance, saying, “What’s up, sweetheart? What do you featherheads need me to do now?” The angel’s face doesn’t change but she steps closer and introduces herself. “My name is Sarakiel. I have come to ask you a question. How much do you know about the Apocalypse?” Groaning, Dean replies, “ I know I broke the first seal, I know that sixty six seals need to be broken for Lucifer to break free. I know that him and Michael are supposed to have a hoedown and that your buddies are looking for a weapon or something, the Michael sword, I think. Anything I missed?” Sarakiel looks surprised at how much he knows but recovers quickly, answering, “Yes. However, the Michael sword is a person, not an object. Descended from both Cain and Abel, he is Michael’s true vessel, a necessary piece of the battle between Michael and Lucifer. He comes from a long line of hunters, and has spent his life in the family business so to speak.” Dean sits up abruptly and interrupts, questioning the angel suspiciously, “Wait, are you saying I’m the Michael sword?!” He shakes his head, adding, “I don’t understand, why me?” 

Pinning Sarakiel with a glare, he pointedly waits until she replies. “It has always been so, Dean. Since before your birth it was destined – how do you think your parents met? Every union in your family since Biblical times has been monitored by angels to ensure that you and your brother would be born.” “Monitored by angels, wha- and Sam’s part of this too? How can we both be Michael’s true vessel if there’s only supposed to be one? Isn’t that the whole deal with a true vessel?” Dean tries to make sense of what he’s hearing. He could swear Sarakiel looks guilty, before she adds softly, “You are correct, each angel has only one true vessel and you are Michael’s. Your brother is… well, he’s Lucifer’s vessel. A fight between brothers, both angel and human that will bring the end of the world – surely you can see the poetry?” After seeing the look on Dean’s face, she quickly amends, “Poetry or not, it is written.” 

When she saw that Dean was opening his mouth for an undoubtedly rude retort, she cut him off, “But Dean, that is why I am here today. I believe I have a solution. As I said before, I am Sarakiel, but I never told you my official title. I, and my sisters, Reguel and Radueriel are the Guardians of Grace. We safeguard the Grace of every angel, Fallen or otherwise and think we have found a way to prevent the use of your bodies as vessels.” Sarakiel fell silent, waiting for the hunter to finish processing what she had just told him. “How do I know you’re not making this up? Why should I trust any angels besides Cas?” Dean asked sharply. “I cannot make you trust me Dean, I can only offer you another choice. Michael and Zachariah will not be so accommodating.” Sarakiel shrugged one shoulder. “I must return to my duties – please think over what I have told you. If you would like to know more, pray for me and I will return.” With that, she disappeared in the space of one breath and the next. 

Dean slumps back down in his seat, overwhelmed by all the information that the angel had just dumped on his dash. He sits stiffly, any calm he had found before the angel appeared long gone. “Well this is just peachy.” Giving up on his good mood from earlier, he gets up, locks the car and heads back inside to tell Sam the news.

***  
Dean sits on his bed, resting his elbows on his knees and watching as Sam paces around the motel room in exasperation, “So you’re saying this angel offered you a way to avoid the Apocalypse and you didn’t ask for more details? Dean – this is the way out we’ve been looking for since the whole thing started. And if both of us are protected that’s even better! Why aren’t you more, I don’t know, gung ho about this?” Dean just sighs. “Because, Sammy, nothing in our life is ever this simple. When has anything that just dropped into our laps worked out? This could be like the Colt all over again. Are we supposed to just blindly trust some angel chick because she just happens to have the perfect solution to our little problem?” 

Dropping his head into his hands he blows out another breath. “I just don’t know Sam. I’m gonna go get us dinner, what do you want to eat?” He stands up and fishes the keys from his pocket. Sam looks over with his “I don’t think this conversation is really over and I want to keep talking to you” puppy eyes, but he knows better than to push it. “Salad with grilled chicken and honey mustard dressing. Thanks, Dean.” Nodding, Dean leaves shutting the door softly behind him and walking to the Impala. As he pulls out of the parking lot onto the main street of town, he prays to Castiel. “Cas, uh, so I dunno if you’re doing anything right now but I got some stuff I need to ask you about.” The last word has barely left his mouth before Castiel appears in the passenger seat with a gentle rustle. “Hello, Dean.” he murmurs. “What is it that you need?” A small smile lifts the grim expression on Dean’s face for a split second before he his worried weigh him back down again. 

“Hey, Cas. Any luck with the seals?” The angel shakes his head, “For every seal I manage to save, three more are broken. I was in Switzerland last week when my own brothers prevented me from protecting a seal. The angels are divided. Some support the Apocalypse and some think that it does not have to come to pass, but both sides are increasingly at odds.” Castiel shakes his head sadly. Dean looks surprised and then says, “That’s the thing Cas. Some angel came to talk to me today. She said she knew a way to avoid the apocalyptic battle between Michael and Lucifer… did you know that I’m the Michael sword?! And that Sammy is Lucifer’s vessel?” He takes one look at the expression on Cas’ face and continues, saying, “Well then I guess you didn’t. Surprise. It’s the Apocalypse, starring Sam and Dean Winchester. Anyways, I was just listening to music with my baby and this angel just zaps in, said she’s a guardian, Sarakiel. And her sisters are Rag-, Red-, Rad-something. Apparently they know a way to lock Michael and Lucifer out of me and Sam. What do you think? Is it possible?” 

Cas hesitates before he replies, “Reguel and Radueriel, yes I know of them. They are the Guardians of Grace. No angel knows exactly what they do, with the exception of their leader. But they are well versed in the intricacies of angelic Grace. If there is a way to prevent an angel from taking their true vessel, the Guardians would know.” He trails off uncertainly, “Of course, I do not know how they would accomplish this; they guard their secrets closely and keep to themselves. Even more since Ariael fell.” Dean can’t hold back his smirk. “Ariel? Like, the Little Mermaid?” he snickers, then grins, waiting for Cas to react. The angel doesn’t disappoint. He frowns slightly, “I don’t understand that reference. Ariael is not from the ocean, nor is he a maiden. His true form is larger than mine, as befitting a warrior of his strength. He is the Lion of God, one of the most powerful angels besides the archangels and the leader of an elite garrison of seraphim. None of his fighters had ever fallen from Grace, so when he fell, the turmoil lasted decades. Regardless, Sarakiel and her sisters are known for their integrity. If they say they can assist you, allow them to. They do not make idle promises.” 

By now, Dean is nearly to the small diner on the outskirts of town. “D’you want anything while we’re here?” he asks, as he parks the car. “You know I do not require sustenance, Dean.” Dean shrugs as he gets out, “Whatever man, I was just being polite. I’ll be back in two shakes – wanna wait in the car?” He strolls into the diner without waiting for an answer, leaving his friend sitting quietly in the passenger seat. When he returns, he’s got three bags. Tossing one to Cas and putting the others in the rear, he starts the car and heads back the way they came. “Dean, what are these? I have never seen anything like it before?” Castiel is minutely examining a mysterious fried ball. “Dude, they’re fried cheese curds, don’t tell me you’ve never heard of them before?! They’re like little chunks of melted heaven with a crispy outside! Try one!” 

Cas seems puzzled as to how Heaven could be soft on the inside with a crisp shell, but he carefully places the treat in his mouth and chews. Dean watches, rapt as the angel’s face goes from neutral, to surprised to practically orgasmic in the space of a few seconds. Cas licks his fingers, and hums as he gathers the last bit of salt from his fingerprints. When he glances over at Dean, the other man quickly snaps his eyes back to the road and shuts his mouth, surreptitiously checking for drool. He thinks that’s pretty high on the list of things you shouldn’t do, have pervy thoughts about a flippin’ angel but you can correct him if he’s wrong. Anyway, Cas didn’t seem to notice. 

“Good, eh Cas? Swing one my way, buddy.” He holds out his hand, only to find a golden brown piece of cheese pressed against his lips. The car swerves slightly before Dean gets his other hand back on the wheel. He looks at the angel out of the corner of his eye then slowly opens his mouth to accept the morsel. The tip of his tongue brushes the pad of Cas’ thumb and is it his imagination, or did Cas just shift that much closer? Dean chews, savoring the crunchy goodness as he drives. He swallows hard and clears his throat before muttering, “Thanks, Cas.” Dean coughs again and adds, “Stay while me and Sam eat so he can grill you? I think it’d make him feel better to hear what you told me straight from the horse’s mouth.” Before Cas can remark that his mouth does not resemble that of a horse, they’re back at the motel and Dean is out the door in a flash, grabbing the takeout bags and hightailing it inside. Castiel follows more sedately, still slightly confused at Dean’s abrupt exit and the odd swooping sensation he had felt in his stomach when he had fed Dean the cheese.

By the time he makes it inside, Dean is already a quarter of the way through his burger, pointedly not thinking about Cas’ lips wrapping around each of his fingers, or the way his skin tasted when sampled with the salty food. Sam shakes his salad to spread the dressing and greets him, “Hey, Cas. How are you?” “I am well, Sam. Your brother has apprised me of the situation. I am and will continue to do all in my power to prevent Lucifer’s rising. However, I am but one angel and I cannot be everywhere I am needed at once. I think it wisest to take Sarakiel’s offer of information at the very least.” Sam nods earnestly in agreement, shooting his brother a superior look since the angel is telling them to do exactly what he had argued for. Dean just rolls his eyes at his brother and continues devouring his meal. Turning his puppy eyes full force on Cas, Sam asks if the angel will come back for the brothers’ conversation with Sarakiel. 

“Of course I will Sam. I shall listen for your prayer. Dean, please allow her to explain herself, I do not believe she means any harm.” Dean frowns but agrees saying, “I trust you. I can promise to hear her out at least.” With that, Cas flaps away leaving the brothers to their own devices. The boys finish their dinner and get ready for bed, bickering over who gets the first shower. Dean calls dibs but Sam is having none of it. His brother protests, “I got us dinner.” Sam shrugs, “Yeah, but you got to shower before me yesterday.” “Because I’m your elder. Show some respect, young moose.” The eye roll that Dean’s statement elicits almost results in bloodshed. “Jerk.” Sam mutters. “Bitch. I’ll be done in fifteen then you can wash your luscious locks. Sam growls and swats at Dean who yelps and escapes into the bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so? any thoughts? next chapter will probably bring us to heaven and is being started post haste.


	3. Problem Solving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean deals with his stress in an unhealthy way, Cas is fed up and Sam treads carefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> damn this chapter did not want to be written, i had to fight for every paragraph. I'm still not completely satisfied with how it came out but if i don't post it now who knows what will happen. let me know if you think i went in the right direction or if I'm completely off the mark... apologies for the frankly horrendous pick up lines :P

When Sarakiel returned to Heaven, she immediately flew to find her sisters. They’re due to tend their plot of Grace and begin preparations for the ritual that could stop the Apocalypse. Sarakiel is certain that the brothers will agree to go through with the process since it will allow them to choose something besides surrender and die, or fight and die later. When she finds the other two angels, she greets them with an affectionate burst of Grace. The three of them share an especially strong bond since God grew their Grace from the same seed all those long millennia ago. 

Together, they fly to the secluded corner of the Garden where they tend to gently glowing flowers. Right now, only a single bloom pulses with the brilliance of active Grace, the rest just shine with the after affects of the energy. Radueriel guides the Grace into a small crystal and secures it to the cord hanging around her neck where it joins the gem that contains Ariael’s Grace and Sarakiel begins cutting flowers. While the Grace that created them may have been harvested, these lilies still resonate very strongly with angelic energy, which is vital for the ritual they will attempt to perform. She begins to weave, tangling the stems and flowers together in an intricate pattern, held together with glistening strands of her own Grace. Reguel and Radueriel are also picking flowers; saving the petals they strip from the stems and pressing them to extract the natural oils, an important ingredient for the ceremony. 

Content to enjoy the silent and affectionate serenity that they find in each other’s presence, the sisters don’t speak as they work. It’s a long time before their tasks are completed, but when they finish, Sarakiel has a thickly woven wreath accented with shimmering drops and threads of her Grace while her sisters have the flower oil stored in a cup they crafted from the flower stems. They walk to a clearing in the middle of the fields of lilies and place the wreath and oil on a small altar. The altar is surprisingly airy looking despite its roughly hewn exterior and chunks of blue-white crystal glint in the light from the angels’ wings. Brushing her wings against those of her sisters, Sarakiel says warmly, “Reguel, Radueriel, thank you for your help. I must go replenish my Grace but I will see you again shortly.” The other two return the gesture, then pressing their foreheads to hers in the typical angel fashion before they depart. When her sisters leave, Sarakiel slowly spreads her wings, enjoying how the sunlight tingles and refracts through the feathers. All angels have wings of the same basic shape, but beyond that, they differ between individuals since wings are a personification of an angel’s Grace. Sarakiel, Reguel and Radueriel’s sets of wings have similar coloring, which reflect the familial kinhsip they share. Normally, Sarakiel wouldn’t stretch her wings so luxuriously, but she is alone. Giving them one last gentle shake, she flaps them in earnest and disappears. 

Reappearing with a rush of air, Sarakiel walks to the pool she landed near and kneels by the edge. Cupping her hands, she catches water in her palms and murmurs in Enochian before pouring the liquid over her upturned face. While she looks human, the body she wears is a construct of her power and crawling traceries of luminous Grace appear beneath her skin when the water trickles over it. Even in Heaven, angels rarely manifest their true forms; instead they appear human. (Humans actually look like angels, but that’s beside the point.) Their true forms are only really used in battle when they need to go nuclear and Sarakiel can count on one hand the number of times she has needed to use her true form. If the Apocalypse happens the way it is written, she knows that number will go up. She pours one last handful of clear water over her head and rises, but before she can leave, another angel appears a few steps away. Unsurprised, Sarakiel gives him a smile, “Greetings, Castiel.” Cas ducks his head in respect, tucking his wings securely to his back, “Hello, Sarakiel. I’m sure you know why I am here.” She nods and waits for him to continue. 

“I want to know how it is possible, how you can stop Michael and Lucifer from taking Sam and Dean as their vessels.” he tells her bluntly before continuing fervently, “I need to know that it’s truly possible, that it will allow them to retain their free will – I know Dean, and the freedom to choose his own path is something he values. I will not watch him get his hopes up, only to see him pretend he is not disappointed if it means he has to sacrifice something that he cannot give up. If you are promising something that is not within your power, do not bother going to meet him when he is ready to speak.” Cas breaks off and seems to realize how forcefully he had been speaking to the other angel. His wings waver nervously before they settle in a defiant, unapologetic stance. Sarakiel just looks amused. She smiles at Castiel, assuring him that she and her sisters will deliver what they promised. “But you already knew that didn’t you Castiel…” The other angel looks at her sheepishly, before saying goodbye and taking his leave. Sarakiel stands there pensively for a moment before she too leaves.

***

Dean wakes up the next morning jittery and gruff. When Sam says good morning, he snaps at him, looks guilty for being so short, and then gets annoyed for feeling bad. Wisely, Sam doesn’t antagonize his older sibling, instead he slides out the door to get breakfast and mutters a quick prayer for Cas to “get down here and put Dean out of his misery before he implodes”. The angel appears before he even makes it to the car and gives him a nod before heading into the motel room. He is shocked to see Dean draining a glass of what he guesses is alcohol. “Dean, what are you doing?” The man in question grins at him sloppily from where he is lounging on his bed, raising the empty glass in a sarcastic toast before he fills it again and downs the drink. “Dean, this is not the time.” He growls, “Sarakiel and her sisters are waiting for you to call them so that they can help you. They have offered a way out, and this is how you treat their generosity?” 

His harsh words don’t seem to have any affect, but Dean latches on to the tone and timbre, rolling his tongue in a purr he says, “Oooh Cas, you’ve got yur smitey voice on. I bet you could pick up all sortsa chicks with the sound of that and your panty dropper good looks.” Dropping his pitch in a rough approximation of the angel, he grates out, “Hello angel, whatsa girl like you doin’ inna place like this? D’ya wanna dance? I learned all my moves from the pizza man.” He breaks down in laughter, taking a chug straight from the bottle before he continues, “Hey girl, did you fall from Heaven because your name is Grace.” Cas’ mouth twitches in exasperation. He tries to take the bottle from Dean but the hunter won’t let go. In the tug of war that follows, Cas overbalances and falls flat on top of the other man, sloshing the sharp smelling spirits over the both of them. Cas curses in Enochian as he attempts to extricate himself without spilling more whiskey. Before he gets away from Dean’s surprisingly clingy limbs, a hand worms its way through the spaces between his buttons until all he can feel is the burning heat of Dean’s hand against the small of his back. Dean singsongs, “Castiel, Cas, Cassie. Cas…anova. Yeah, you could be a regular Casanova, all brooding and blue eyed.” 

Castiel is still frozen, transfixed by the fingertips branding designs on his torso. “Dean,” he whispers, “Dean, I think you need to sober up.” With that he untangles himself, removing the hand from his back and pressing gentle fingers to Dean’s forehead. When he lifts them away, he’s gratified to see that the other man’s eyes are clear and alert. “Cas? Wha-what happened?” “You managed to drink yourself into a stupor in an impressively short amount of time and then listed some interesting perversions of my name while attempting to ‘feel me up’ as you would say. But, we can pretend none of that happened since that is usually what we do. Sam will be returning in 12 minutes.” With that, Cas pointedly turns away from Dean and ignores his shocked, red face in favor of watching for Sam out the window. The uncomfortable silence lasts for several minutes, broken only by Dean clearing his throat but not finding the right words to continue. 

Finally, the angel takes pity on him and changes the subject despite his lingering annoyance, “Are you prepared to meet with the Guardians today?” Dean rubs the back of his neck and his blush fades as he seriously considers Cas’ question. Is he ready or should he put it off? How do you even prepare to meet three angels who are apparently offering to help out of the goodness of their hearts? In the Winchester’s experience, angels are not at all like the romanticized harp-players of today. Instead, they’re comparable to humans even if they don’t admit it. (Zachariah being the perfect example. Petty, arrogant, pompous and self absorbed, he embodies the worst traits of humanity even as he looks down upon them for the same qualities.) Even though Sarakiel seemed a little different and had Cas’ stamp of approval, Dean still wasn’t sure he could trust her. Too much experience went against that. “I dunno, Cas. I don’t think I’d ever be totally prepared so we might as well get it over with. How ‘bout right after we eat? Do you mind hanging around til then?” Cas nods and the rumble of the Impala filters into the room from outside. 

Sam hesitantly comes in soon after, juggling a bag of bagels with a couple coffees and sees that his brother seems to be in a better mood. He breathes a near silent sigh of relief, putting coffee down on the motel table then tossing the toasted everything bagel with cream-cheese to Dean, the fragrant lemon poppy seed muffin to Cas and keeping the spinach-egg white English muffin for himself. As they dig in, Sam cautiously asks Dean if he’s alright, closely watching his facial expression. He’s expecting annoyance or anger, but the fleeting glimpse of shame catches him by surprise. Dean mutters that he’s fine and half apologizes for his bad temper, blaming it on nerves. Sam wonders what happened while he was gone but decides against asking – sometimes with Dean it’s better to humor him. The meal flows more smoothly once the awkward tension fades into tactical talk about the meeting looming over their heads. Castiel tells Sam and Dean more about the Guardians in an attempt to ease their minds. “The Guardians share an uncommonly close bond. You know that angels call each other brother or sister, and in an indirect way we are all related, but Sarakiel, Radueriel and Reguel truly are sisters. It is said that they share their Grace. I am not sure how this works, but legend has it that God somehow twined their individual Grace together or divided Grace to create the three angels.” 

Sam looks properly awed, while Dean is curious. “Are there other angels like them then? I mean, are they the only ones with the freaky God Grace meld thing? Because that’s kinda cool. Things would be a lot easier if all the angels were bonded like that. Maybe they wouldn’t be fighting over the Apocalypse…” Cas shakes his head, answering, “No, they are not the only ones. Ariael’s garrison is made up of trios like theirs. It helps them work as a cohesive unit and keeps them tightly bound together. And it means they are more powerful. The Blessed have special abilities that even the archangels lack. I have faith in them, and I think you’ll find that they can be depended on.” Sam and Dean finish eating as Cas picks crumbs off his coat and the three of them neaten up the motel room. When they’re done, Dean and Cas sit down side by side at the table while Sam goes to stand behind them. “Ready?” Dean asks. Upon receiving an affirmative answer, he closes his eyes and prays. A soft fluttering sounds as three angels appear in the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i think its pretty clear canonically speaking that dean has a drinking problem and while he may be a functioning alcoholic, he would probably benefit from an AA meeting or two. this chapter dragged because i just wasn't sure if i was writing the right scene about dean using drink to deal with his stress. but that is how it came out. next up, the guardians come to talk to the boys and we'll find out how their plan is supposed to work!
> 
> also notes about the Grace flowers: they're basically blue-white, glowy looking stargazer lilies with speckles of a darker but still bright blue. Lilies have many meanings, but white lilies symbolize purity, calm, innocence and humility. Stargazer lilies invoke religious faith and a belief in the Almighty. Put them together and thats how i imagine Grace


	4. Story Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys learn a little bit more about God and find that despite His awesome power, He still can suck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long wait. real life happened! and then writers block, but if i look at this chapter any longer i'd delete the whole story so here it is!

Chapter 3

As the angels appear, the Winchesters tense slightly as if they’re expecting an attack and remain in their places, watching warily as Cas gets up and greets his kin with a gentle press of his forehead against each of theirs. Dean glances over at Sam, practically able to see the questions seething in his brother’s brain as the angels sit down at the table across from them. They look out of place in this dingy motel room, too perfect for the ugliness of the flawed earth they are walking on. With his arms crossed defensively, Dean studies the unsettling beings who return the steady scrutiny without comment. He recognizes the tall, dark haired Sarakiel from her previous visit, but the other two, a bright blonde and brunette are strangers to him. 

When Cas scrapes his chair on the floor as he sits down, Sam startles out of the staring match and breaks the thick silence, “H-hi. I’m Sam, but, you uh, already knew that I guess.” He breaks off awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, then bucks up and pushes on more strongly, “Can you really help us? Its just, if you can’t, I don’t want to get my hopes up.” It goes unsaid that he doesn’t want Dean to be let down either. God knows how often they’ve been left with their thumbs up their asses after chasing smoke. The blonde haired angel attempts a reassuring smile, “Let me tell you about the beginning of time... Reguel, will you assist me?” Reguel nods her head and takes Radueriel’s hand. “May I?” she asks, as her hands hovers just above Sam’s forehead. Sam looks at Dean and sees him in a similar position before he agrees with a short, “Yes.” which is echoed by his older brother. The last thing they feel is the tingle touch of Grace against their skin and then they’re gone. Falling into…

Nothingness… A disconcerting absence of energy, of life, of any sensation – even of time itself. And then, warmth. The kind of warmth that makes you curl up as you try to keep it tucked buoyantly in your ribcage and wrapped around your shoulders like a soft blanket. This heat radiates through the harsh blackness of the void and paints it in softer variations of grey, then a fresh white before finally exploding into breathtaking color. A pattern emerges, bleeding through the cracks of chaotic dreams, and inhabits the blank whiteness. Swirling vines trail from vaulted heights and stitch together bright petals to create dapples of color that splash onto moss colored stones. It is God’s first creation, this Garden and He sees that it is good. Plants flourish, growing quickly in the light of His presence until suddenly, after eternity or a split second, that light begins to dim.  
Clouded by overwhelming loneliness, a heavy rain begins to fall in the Garden. Few drops of water make it through the thick canopy, but those that do fall upon dark, rich soil. These salty tears water seeds sown long before the Garden was realized, and soon, four bright sprouts with traceries of power through their veins began to poke through the ground. Bathed by God’s love and shaped by his loneliness, these seedlings grow taller and stronger, as their petals bloom to reveal a glittering blue-white light hovering in the center of each flower. The light inspires God, and for the first time He takes a form. Pulling together dark swathes of the night sky, and cheery streaks of a sunny day, He fashions a body. Crowning Himself with a white-hot star, He is enveloped by a radiant halo. Stretching skyward, an unimaginably vast being who still manages to gently pluck the glowing Grace from the center of a flower and cradle it tenderly in his large palm. With His free hand, He reaches up and pulls a thin, shimmering twist of starlight from the sky and winds it delicately around the Grace. Then, He cups His hands around the tiny spark and exhales, a long, steady breath to kindle the spark into a flame. When He unfolds His hands, the roiling mass of Grace expands into the space, until He flings his arms wide, causing a blazing burst of light. As the light fades, it silhouettes a nebulous new figure that stands in front of its Creator. Hello, Michael. 

And they’re back at the table – blinking, awed at the stunning majesty of the scene which had played out in their minds. “Th-that was God?” Dean almost can’t get the words out. Reguel nods. “Why isn’t that story in the Bible?” She seems to have been expecting that question, because her serene expression doesn’t change, “Because it belongs to the angels. It is the story of our Creation, and such truths are not revealed to humans or even angels lightly. But even if a prophet received revelation of this knowledge and recorded it in your book, it would be much transformed. God’s Word changed as it was passed down through generations of your ancestors, but that is just the nature of humanity. You forget some details, you embellish others, you twist the events to fit your human perceptions.” Dean frowns. He has dozens of questions he wants to ask, but he’s not sure how long the angels’ patience will last and Sam still can’t seem to get his voice to work. 

Cas doesn’t seem like he’ll be much help, he looks like…he looks like he’s seen God for the first time. “Cas, haven’t you seen this before? I thought this was your history?” Castiel shakes blinks and slowly turns his head to face his friend, “Dean,” he says softly, “Only four angels have ever looked upon God’s face and they are the archangels. The story of their Creation, and the Creation of the rest of the Host, is not shared with every angel and a malakhim such as I would not even be considered for this Revelation. Only the highest ranking seraphim were enlightened by the archangels.” Dean glances at Sam over Cas’s head, sees his brother’s puppy dog eyes making an appearance, in sympathy for the angel and thinks how fucked up Heaven actually is. His mom’s reassurance that angels were watching over him isn’t so comforting now that he’s met them firsthand and seen the dysfunctional workings of their existences. Dean squeezes Cas’s shoulder, “Well Cas, now you’re one of the special ones. But then why did me and Sammy get to see it too? We’re not even angels.” He levels a stare at Sarakiel. “What does this have to do with locking out Michael and Lucifer and stopping the Apocalypse?” 

For the first time since they arrived, Sarakiel, Reguel and Radueriel loose the confidence that shrouded them as surely as their Grace. “Well, to put it simply, we would prevent Michael and Lucifer from taking you as their vessels by bonding you with another angel’s Grace.” Sam and Dean cut her off, protesting loudly that they’re not going to roll over and let some other feathered dick wear them like a condom. (Dean’s words, not Sam’s, but the sentiment was the same.) Sarakiel says, placatingly, “No, no. It wouldn’t be another angel’s Grace, it would be your Grace. Or it would become yours after we perform a special ritual. Our Garrison needs a new leader.” 

Before the boys can interrupt, she tells the tale of Emmett and Cara Winchestre, Bernael and Ariael. Sam, Dean and Cas find themselves riveted by the words falling stilted from Sarakiel’s tongue, by the tragedy that spans the centuries between themselves and the events of which they’re told. “And that’s when Joshua came to find us with a message from God.” Here, she stops and struggles to force out words that seem to physically hurt her. “H-He was displeased that so many of the angels were fighting to let the Apocalypse play out. He told Joshua that it was a test to see if His oldest children would remember how deeply He commanded us to love humanity and we failed. We all failed.” 

At the anguished look on her face, Dean can’t hold back any longer. “Well fuck Him. Parents shouldn’t do that to their kids, test them like that. Setting you up to fail but expecting you to do what they want you to do, not what they told you. Fuck that. You shouldn’t feel bad for not knowing better.” And maybe he’s getting too worked up about this, but he knows about deadbeat dads and he knows the frustration that comes with the territory. “What do you need me to do? I’m in. I’ll do your ritual, I’ll swallow some Grace.” He turns to his brother, “Sammy if you don’t want to do this, it’s fine. You don’t have to…” Sam just scoffs at him and looks Sarakiel firmly in the eye as he says, “I’ll do it too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chappie will probably go into more detail about the guardians, grace and their duties (heh heh, duties)  
> please let me know what you think!


	5. Ramble On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Winchester boys make a big choice, and then they go on a road trip. Cas indulges in some unusual culinary tastes...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi sorry for the long ass wait for this chapter... i was snared by classes during the school year and then writers block hit during the summer! i hope it was worth the wait! if you see any grammar mistakes lmk bc I'm relying on my own proofreading skills for this venture... enjoy!!

As soon as Sam and Dean give their consent, Sarakiel, Reguel and Radueriel immediately stand and gesture for them to do the same. Back to her initial business like demeanor, Reguel informs them that most of the ritual has already been set up and that “the sooner you undergo the change, the better.” Dean isn’t having it. “Woah, woah lady. Listen; if me and Sam are doing this thing, we’re doing it on our terms, on our time. When we’re ready to become one of you junkless dicks, we’ll let you know, so keep your ears on. And before you tell us again that time is ticking, well, we don’t care, capiche?” And with that he gets up, clearly dismissing the angels as he walks away and shuts himself in the bathroom. The sisters say goodbye to Castiel, each taking a moment to tip their foreheads to rest against his before they fly off with figuratively (and maybe literally) ruffled feathers. 

Cas and Sam are left in a slowly thickening silence that congeals like glue, sticky and suffocating. Sam looks nauseated, like what he just agreed to do is finally processing in his head. “Cas… wha-.” His voice cuts out. He coughs roughly, and tries again, “Will we still be, well, us when we do this thing? When they said that the Grace would be ours, does that mean we’re going to be angels? I didn’t even know that was possible! There’s nothing in the lore to suggest that a human being can be changed into an angel… wouldn’t the Grace burn us up?” 

Cas shrugs, “Honestly, I have no idea, Sam. I know as much as you do right now. The Blessed seraphim in general keep to themselves, and the Guardians keep an even closer council. Even though I myself am technically their equal in power, I cannot begin to match their knowledge… they have spent a millennia learning their craft and honing their skills while I have only begun to scratch the surface.” He shakes his head ruefully, “I still have so much to discover about my power and Grace – I haven’t really gotten the hang of my new wings yet. They’re much more sensitive to fluctuations in time and space than the pair I had before.” 

Sam is riveted by Cas’ words. “Wait, so if you weren’t a seraph before, what were you? I thought seraph was just another name for angel.” He stops and waits eagerly for Castiel to answer. “Well, yes, seraph and angel have become synonymous but there is another kind of angel, the malakhim. I used to be one of them. We, or they, are the youngest and weakest of the angels – only one set of wings and a single face. God planted our Grace back when humanity was just crawling out of the sludge, before Lucifer Fell and He left. That was why Lucifer was cast out, because he couldn’t bring himself to love the creatures God had shaped out of dust. But he couldn’t see what mankind would become, and by the time he could, it was too late, the hatred and resentment had already taken root and Lucifer was no longer recognizable. ”

Sam continues peppering Cas with questions and the angel patiently answers them, filling the hunter in on the hierarchies of Heaven and the history between humans and angels. But while Sam is distracted and comforted by learning new lore, Dean still hasn’t come out of the bathroom. He sits, back to the locked door with his head on his knees and nothing to distract him from himself. The bluster of his parting words to the angels hid his fear of what he had just agreed to. How did he know that this was a better deal? Or that it would even work? And of course he had dragged Sammy down with him, he should have known that the kid wouldn’t let him go it alone. 

Dean vows that he won’t be doing anything for those featherheads until they tell him exactly how they plan on transplanting Grace into him and his brother’s noggins. Cas may trust those three, but he sure as hell doesn’t, they haven’t done anything to deserve it yet. One thing’s for certain though, hiding out in the bathroom won’t solve anything. Dean gets up and braces himself against the sink for a moment, staring at his reflection in the mirror. A normal looking man stares back. Yeah, he looks a little tired, a little beaten down and maybe his eyes are a touch older than they should be but he’s just a guy. What makes him and Sam so special that the fate of the world teeters on their shoulders? 

Turning abruptly away from the mirror, Dean unlocks the door and opens it, pasting a smile on his face when he notices Cas and Sam’s heads swing around to face him. “Heya fellas.” He plops down heavily on the chair across from them. “What’d I miss? Nothing important I hope…” 

Sam tells Dean everything that Cas had just shared with him, “… And get this, you know how in the Bible they talk about how seraphs have six wings – one pair to cover their faces, one to cover their feet and one to fly? Well they really do have six wings but they use them to fly not hide. Their second and third sets of wings are actually used to navigate through dimensional space and time! That’s why it was so easy for Gabriel to trap us in all those different parallel worlds. Archangels have way more than six wings so navigating between dimensions is a snap.” The steady rhythm of Sam’s words soothes Dean more than the cold tiles of the bathroom did and his shoulders gradually relax out of their defensive hunch. 

By the time Sam has run out of steam, Dean’s equilibrium is restored, along with his usual bravado. He leans over and asks, “Whattaya say we go on a road trip?” Sam side eyes him, “You do realize what we do for a living right? We’ve been across the country more times than most people have been across their hometown…” His brother shakes his head, “Nah, man but that was for work. I want to do it for fun. Tell me. Have we ever been to the beach or a theme park that wasn’t haunted? I’ve always wanted to go to Coney Island. C’mon, Sammy. You and me, one last time before we become dicks with zero sense of humor…” 

He grins at his brother, a trace of worry still darkening his eyes and turns to Cas, “You should come too, buddy.” The angel looks down, the permanent vee between his brows deepening. “But Dean, this should be your and Sam’s special trip… I don’t want to ruin that.” Dean just scoffs at him. “Pack some swim trunks, featherbrain. We’re going to New York!”

From Wisconsin and fried cheese curds, they drive through Chicago, stopping only for deep-dish pizza at a familiar little restaurant where Dean is quieter, more sober. They skim across the top of Indiana and pass through Toledo before they hit Cleveland. Dean insists on stopping at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame where he has an almost religious experience and his mood is back up. 

Sam rolls his eyes when Dean tells him that if all museums were like this, he wouldn’t mind going. Cas ponders the phrase rock and roll… What does a solid mineral have to do with rolling? They stay in Cleveland for the night and enjoy the town, then drive through Pittsburgh to Philadelphia where Sam finally gets to see the Liberty Bell. Dean rags on his brother for his nerdiness, “Dude, why don’t you like anything cool? It’s a cracked piece of metal… and not the good kind!” Sam just rolls his eyes again, and continues to tell Cas about the history of the bell. After lunch, they decide to press on to New York, since it’s only a couple hours away. 

Dean squints into the late afternoon sun as he drives across the Hudson, finally making it out of Jersey and into New York. “Welcome to the Big Apple, boys. First stop is this burger place I saw on the Internet. They have big ass burgers and these giant milkshakes! Those pictures woulda stopped your heart, Sammy.” Cas leans forward, “Do not worry, Sam. I would not let you die.” Sam just snorts, “Thanks, Cas.”

After a two-hour wait, Dean, Sam and Cas are finally ushered into the narrow restaurant, barely wider than the bar that takes up most of its space. They pull up seats and peruse the menu as Dean orders a pint. “Surprise me,” he says to the bartender. He takes a considering sip, and makes a pleased face. “Wanna try it?” He tips the glass towards Cas, who nods, and Dean raises it to his lips. 

Startled, Cas’ hands jerk up and cover Dean’s as he takes a long swallow. In the background, Sam rolls his eyes and orders his burger salad before whacking the back of his brother’s head. “What are you getting, jackass?” Dean stutters out what he wants, thankful that the restaurant is dark enough to hide his discomfiture. 

When Cas orders a cotton candy shake and onion rings, Dean gratefully jumps on the opportunity to tease him and rebalance himself. Lately, he’s felt something shifting between himself and the angel but he can’t pin down what it is. Distracted from his introspection by the apple bacon cheeseburger that plunks down in front of him, Dean happily dives in. 

Blacktap Burgers is everything Dean hoped for it to be, and even Sam is satisfied with the burger salad. Cas drew some strange looks for dipping the crispy fried onions into his melting shake but Dean is quickly converted when he starts doing the same with his fries. 

After leaving the restaurant, Dean drives to the Big Apple B&B, a tiny run-down hotel on the outskirts of the city. The décor leaves no doubt as to which city it’s in, and Sam laughs when he sees the Lady Liberty lamp perched on his nightstand. Cas lingers in the doorway of Sam and Dean’s room, lips pursed like he has something to say but all he says is good night before he retreats to his own room. 

Later that night, Cas stares at the ceiling, pondering the endless and splintering paths that he can vaguely see leading from the choice the Winchester brothers just made. Less of them end in darkness and blood and fade into a light, refreshing glow.

Next door, the two brothers quickly fall into deep, satisfying sleep. For the first time in longer than either of them will admit, neither man dreams of demons or casualties on past hunts. Instead, (and Dean will deny this with his dying breath because he 'didn't have a dream about any stupid flower, no way.') they see two flowers growing next to each other and giving off brilliant light. A low ringing sound seems to be coming from the blossoms, but even as they try to focus on the noise, it fades. When they wake up, it's in an unusually good mood.


End file.
